Levels of Hell — Did I Say That?

Some people don’t really like “Total Eclipse of the Heart”. In fact, this is an actual statement I came across today: I hate that song, and believe there is a special layer of Hell that plays nothing but Jim Steinman songs. Of course, that would be paradise.

So I started to wonder what other levels of hell might be there. Doing what any sane person would do, I asked Google. Discounting Dante’s nine levels, apparently there are levels in hell

where disgustingly horrible film directors are sent when they die;
where programmers are forced to use textual Version Control systems;
where souls must suffer through selling and buying a house in the State of California;
where Barry Manilow sings to you naked, and you have front row seats, and he’s become a rapper;
where miserable pissants torment slightly-more miserable pissants;
where HR people reign;
where every boob you try to cop-a-feel explodes in cacophony of silicone;
where you are force fed by Ben and Jerry for all eternity and all is right with the world. Well, unless you consider that Santa only delivered presents to the good little children of Mexico City and completely forgot the rest of the world — D’OH;
where taxi drivers go;
where pony-tailed junior demons are developing major script options while they wait tables in Japanese-Ecuadorian restaurants;
where Elton John’s “Your Song” is on loop;
where el diablo forces you to don an animal costume and dance dance dance…;
where fat men … have their own body chub melted from inside the skin;
where hapless customers are sent to wait for their laptops to arrive from China;
where the angry beavers go;
where it never snows;
where people who drive their family members insane go;
where Satan will demand that you sit completely motionless in a dark room for a thousand years while listening to John Travolta lecture on the proper role of homosexual bush pilots in developing countries. Should you successfully complete that trial, you will ultimately be forced to marry and spawn children with Tom Cruise, the ultimate form of eternal punishment. Only one has ever reached this plane.
where they’re forced to watch Temptation Island, Paradise Hotel and Who Wants to Marry a Millionaire? 24 hours a day;
where half of hip hop is now;
where the air conditioning is always broken;
where the authors of cheap detective novels have to read their own books forever and pay for their sin;
where you are playing Jeopardy and all the categories are “Things you don’t know”.

Have I missed any?